


Paint

by meisterful



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Law and Order: DCU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-14
Updated: 2013-12-14
Packaged: 2018-01-04 16:04:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1082980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meisterful/pseuds/meisterful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fun one shot for the lead up to Soul Eater Resonance Bang 2013. Occurs shortly after the events of Law and Order: DCU. There are no mentions of or spoilers for the main story.</p>
<p>Sometimes when she reflected on it, she begrudgingly acknowledged that it probably wasn’t her best decision to wear her favourite shorts while painting an apartment. Then she realised that if it hadn’t been for a certain college drop out nothing would have happened to her pants at all, so really it wasn’t her fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eisschirmchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eisschirmchen/gifts).



Sometimes when she reflected on it, she begrudgingly acknowledged that it probably wasn’t her best decision to wear her favourite shorts while painting an apartment. Then she realised that if it hadn’t been for a certain college drop out nothing would have happened to her pants at all, so really it wasn’t her fault. 

Maka Albarn was not a girl to wear pants with any kind of embellishment. She liked blue jeans, plain khakis and dress pants. She wouldn’t buy a pair of shorts if they were ‘distressed’ or even if the stitching was a contrasting colour to the fabric. She definitely would not wear anything bedazzled or wordy. She wouldn’t even wear patterned jeans. Maka Albarn kept her pants simple and discrete. She never wore anything that would draw too much attention. She preferred to keep it simple. So when the day to repaint Soul’s living room came around she didn’t think twice about pulling on her favourite pair of sky blue hot-pants and bussing over post haste. 

It had started simply enough. Soul had mixed up off-white paint and was practically buzzing with excitement over finally covering the hideous rotting mustard colour that had graced the walls since he moved in. He measured it carefully into the trays, handed Maka a roller, turned on some music and started painting. Maka had felt the need to point out to him that he should do all the edges first, but decided against it. He actually looked like he was enjoying himself. Instead, she painted careful lines around windows and over skirting boards. She didn’t get far before something started dripping on her. Maka flinched and looked up just in time to be hit square in the forehead with a dollop of white paint. 

“Soul!” 

He flinched and looked down at her, paint roller overloaded and dripping down his hand.

“What?”

Maka pointed to her forehead and frowned when Soul started laughing. Dipping her fingers into her paint pot Maka waiting for him to stop before flicking some paint right back at him. It splattered over his arms and collarbone. Before he could react she scooped up a bit more, aimed higher and hit him in the face. He blinked slowly once and tried to wipe it away, only succeeding in smearing it across his face like drunkenly applied warpaint. 

“Not cool Maka.” 

“Don’t overload your roller idiot.” 

He eyed her calculatingly and his fingers twitched around the roller. Before Maka had a chance to flee he’d reached forward and rolled it up her bare arm. He held the roller at the juncture of her shoulder and paint slowly soaked through her singlet, dripping down her side and sticking uncomfortably to her skin. She glared at him. 

“Move.” 

Soul shrugged. “You started it.” 

Quick as a flash Maka dropped her paint pot, grabbed the roller and flipped it, propelling herself forward she ran it up his chest and neck, halting at his chin, holding him there as if at sword point. 

“No, you started it.” 

Soul gripped her around the waist and pulled her to him quickly so that she didn’t have time to stop her face from hitting the roller. She spluttered and dropped it, pushing the paint away from her eyes before trying to force the roller from his grasp. She pushed her hands against his chest, leaving two white prints against his black T-shirt. He let go of her and tugged at the neckline of his ruined shirt.

“This was one of my favourites...” he mused absentmindedly. 

Maka brandished the roller superiorly. 

“Well you should have thought of that before you started dripping paint on me.” 

Soul reached down to her fallen paint cup and picked it up. Maka shook her head at him in warning.

“No. Soul. No. Do not do what you’re think-”

“Don’t do what? This?” 

He flicked paint covered fingers at her. It splattered across her chest and Maka tensed. 

“Soul Eater Evans, you are so dead.” 

Maka swung the roller through the paint tray before spinning, casting the excess paint in Soul’s direction. He held up his arm to block the worst of it, but paint specks still pranced across his tan skin. He looked at her with wide eyes, temporarily frozen. She smirked at him and gestured him forwards with two fingers. A devilish smile slashed his face and he leapt at her, paint soaked hands at the ready. Maka shrieked and ran away from him, only turning to push him back with the roller. She felt paint spatter her back, her neck, her legs. His aim was terrible. She on the other hand had to have been a warrior in a past life because every hit she aimed at him met its mark. They pranced around the room, hands slipping across skin in weak attempts at grabs. Maka held him off with her roller and agility. Soul took whatever hits he could get. By the time the sun had moved high in the sky and was spilling through the windows with a vengeance both had paused, panting heavily. Soul was almost entirely covered in paint. He peeled his shirt over his head with difficulty and wasting no time Maka leapt into his blind spot and rolled paint straight up his chest, over skin and scar without discrimination. 

“Fuck Maka!” he groaned, flinching under the light touch of the roller. 

She hesitated, but he hadn’t sounded like he was in pain, more like she had caught him by surprise. Which considering he had managed to trap himself in his shirt momentarily, made sense. He jerked it from his head and tossed it aside. Maka eyed the discarded shirt enviously. Her own shirt was beginning to dry uncomfortably against her skin. Soul reached for her and she spun out of the way, keeping the roller between them. 

“Nice try.” she smirked. 

Soul smirked right back and poured the last of her paint pot out onto his hands. He rubbed them together conspiringly and advanced on her. She moved to hit him with the roller again, but he grabbed it in both hands and pulled it from her grasp. 

“Nice try.” he parroted, looming over her. 

His breath was hot on her already flushed face and smelt unpleasantly of breakfast. Before she could tell him so he wobbled, off balance. He stepped back into the spilled paint and started slipping, arms flailing wildly as he tried to steady himself. Maka reached for him on instinct and tried to right him, paint covered hands slipping against his equally paint covered skin. After some cursing and gripping and more paint going everywhere they were both standing still. Soul sighed. 

“Thanks.” 

Maka shook her head at his clumsiness.

“Good work idiot.” 

Their faces were unexplainably close together again and Maka tried not to blush. She tapped his nose with her finger, leaving a white dot behind and giggled, covering her mouth with her hand before remembering it was covered in paint. Unfazed, Soul smirked at her and tapped her nose back, covering the spot she had missed. She pouted and painted a line between his eyebrows, connecting two snowy brows into an oddly convincing one. She outright laughed at him then, choking out bad monobrow jokes between laboured breaths. Soul studied her unimpressed and waited for her to finish. When her breathing started to even out again he nodded once as if ready and grunted,

“That’s enough.”

He had her swung upside down over his shoulder before she could react. 

“Soul!” 

“You’re a menace. You need to be stopped.” 

His hand was warm and slick high up her thigh and she gripped at his waist for fear of falling headfirst to the hardwood floors.

“Put me down Soul!” she kicked at him, but he ignored her. 

She wiggled fiercely and his grip on her loosened. Passing by the couch and almost free she kicked and wiggled extra hard. Expecting to be free and have her fall cushioned by the couch she was more than surprised (and a little more than impressed) when Soul pulled her down his shoulder, hands firm and secure under her rear. Her legs wrapped around his waist on instinct and her hands gripped his neck for dear life. He smirked at her shocked expression before nuzzling into her neck, spreading paint all over her exposed skin. Maka couldn’t help but laugh as his hair and slight stubble ghosted across her skin, tickling her mercilessly. She could feel him smirking against her skin, lips moving in stifled chuckles. She gripped his hair in a fist, halfheartedly trying to pull his head away.

“Soul!” she whined, ankles digging into the small of his back in revenge. 

He grunted something incoherent into her collarbone and they toppled into the couch, dragging the drop cloth down in a crinkling mess of paint covered plastic. 

“Oww.” Maka pushed at Soul, trying to get what might have been his knee away from her stomach. 

“Move.” he pushed at her arm, dislodging her elbow from his ribs. 

Maka leaned back on her haunches and almost fell off the couch. Soul grabbed her wrist and steadied her. She tipped forward, catching herself by bracing her hands against the couch. Glancing down she realised she had Soul’s head caged by her arms and he was staring up at her wide eyed. Her knees ached slightly in protest of holding all her weight and she became suddenly aware that if she was to listen to them and sit down she’d be right on Soul’s lap. Not that anything so serious would be able to hold her attention for long when his hair near perfectly matched the paint colour.

“Nice monobrow.” 

She collapsed into giggles, knees giving out and fell sideways so her legs spread over his lap. Soul sighed and shook his head, looking down at her fondly.

“You’re such a dork.” 

“So are you.”

Her legs settled over his lap comfortably and he rested his hands on them, not to leave white handprints (though he did), but to squeeze gently in truce. Maka tried not to laugh at the sight of his paint covered person, but she wasn’t very good at it.

“It’s not like you look any better yourself.” he pouted.

“Aww is someone not feeling ‘cool’ enough all covered in paint?”

Soul’s pout turned into a frown. Maka sighed heavily and pulled her legs from his lap, standing and offering him a hand. 

“Come on, lets get cleaned up.” 

Soul let her pull him up and Maka considered the best path to the bathroom. They’d probably have to put more drop sheets down as they went. They weren’t dripping much paint anymore, but even she knew not to risk hardwood floors. She bent over to gather up the leftover drop sheets and laid one down in front of her and started walking towards the bathroom. It took her a moment to realise Soul wasn’t following her.

“What?” she asked, glancing at him over her shoulder. 

He shook his head and jogged towards her.

“Nothing, lets go.” 

It wasn’t until after half an hour of scraping paint from her skin, another two hours of actual painting, a clean shirt and bus ride home that she realised what had made him hesitate. She didn’t notice the Soul sized handprints clear over her ass until Liz made a smart remark about pianist fingers. At first she’d been ready to burn the shorts and a certain sneaky pianist, but Liz had a better idea. When Maka met Soul for lunch the next day she got there early and acted perfectly normal. It wasn’t until she stood to take care of the bill that he saw. Maka turned over her shoulder and quirked an eyebrow at him, the picture of innocence. 

“What?” 

Completely incapable of forming words Soul sputtered and gestured vaguely to her hips. Maka looked down at her blue hot-pants and the two white handprints, one over each cheek, marking them before turning her gaze slowly back to him. Her eyes narrowed and she shrugged.

“You started it.” 

Soul’s eyes just about fell out his skull and Maka turned to hide her satisfied smile. Maybe she was a girl for a little embellishment after all.


End file.
